


Bewitched

by Maizeysugah



Series: The Mudblood Relocation Camp Tales [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Nintendo 64, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Voldemort is smitten with his prisoner, Harry Potter, and would do anything to make him happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bewitched

Bellatrix Lestrange looked up at the flashing red lights and stupidly loud siren going off the instant she tried to open Harry Potter’s cell door. “What the hell?” 

“Whoawhoawhoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Lord Voldemort asked her after sliding to a stop from around the corner. 

She hitched a thumb at the door while watching her master disable to alarms. “I was going to play with Harry. It’s my day.” 

“Noooooooope,” he found himself saying. “Go play with someone else, he’s um…busy.” 

She tipped her head, looking at him funny. “Busy? What could he possibly be busy doing? He’s imprisoned. This is a prison.” 

“How dare you question me,” he huffed, and fumbled around with his robes looking for his wand. 

Her eyes grew huge. She bolted away before he could free it. 

“Yeah, that’s right - you better run!” He made his way back to his lab and hunched back over the enormous volume of potion recipes, flipping through the pages as he’d been doing for days. There had to be something that would help him transform into his former handsome self. The thought of it suddenly appealed greatly to him. 

Inside Potter’s cell, Harry was doing the same. Having agreed to help the man find a way to permanently look like Tom Marvolo Riddle again, he pored over several books of spells and runes, hoping to affix anything that might help them. At the end of each day they would pool their resources together to try and come up with something new to aid them with this problem. 

The insides of his cell had improved. Bookshelves lined the walls filled to the brim with every book imaginable. He was sitting in a leather armchair and took a sip from his teacup and set it back on the saucer that was resting over on the yew wood side table beside him. 

They had tried the obvious: beauty spells and potions, along with hair growing spells and tonics. They needed to learn the origins of other unique spells and combine them, infuse their workings into something they could use. 

The Dark Lord entered the room and sat in the other leather-bound chair on the opposite side of Harry and the table, dropping a large book on it. “Any luck?” he asked the young man, crossing his fingers. He was running low on all of the hairs he had saved from his younger self and was getting quite desperate, or at least hoped Harry might not be immune to his love potion anymore. 

"I think I’m onto something,” Harry told him, having not yet looked up from his book. Voldemort pouted. “There’s a spell here I found that forces a transformed creature to revert back to its human form. It’s mainly used on werewolves, but if it works perhaps we can find a way to strengthen it as it’s power is only temporary.” He held out a hand. “Let’s test it out, gimme your wand.” 

“Nice try,” Voldemort said, smirking. “What’s the incantation? Show me the book.” 

“Oh, you don’t trust me?” Harry said, looking up at and winking at the wraith. Voldemort’s shrivelled up little heart leapt in his chest. Harry showed him the page, watching the Dark Lord squinting to read it clearly. “Eyesight going?” he jabbed, nudging him. The man’s heart skipped another beat. “I forgot you’re old.” 

The Dark Lord stood up and waved his wand over himself, shouting “ _Homorphus!_ ” and instantly reverted to his human form. Harry gasped, throwing a hand up to his mouth in shock. He was much older than his Polyjuice Potion’d self but was far more handsome, if that were even possible. 

Voldemort looked at his human hands and touched his handsome face. “It worked,” he marvelled. “How do I l-” Before he could finish the sentence Harry was all over him, silencing him with his mouth. They stumbled back into the room and landed on the gigantic four-poster bed tangled in each other’s limbs. 

They tore at their clothing, shredding their robes and skivvies. Harry fell back against the mattress and looked up. “Dah!” he emitted, backing himself away up the length of the bed. He pointed at the man, cringing. “It wore off!” 

“Already? What the hell? You’d think it would last more than a few minutes…” He grabbed his wand out of the torn robes and cast it again. “That’s ridiculous. Did the inventor of this spell want to get murdered by werewolves?” 

Harry held up a hand. “Okay, give me a moment to get back into the mood.” 

Voldemort clucked his tongue. “We really don’t have a moment judging by how fast it wore off. Why don’t you just shut your eyes?” 

“I don’t want to shut my eyes, you shut your eyes,” Harry growled. 

He gaped at the young man. “I don’t need to shut my eyes, Harry, I like the way you look! I’m so sorry if my looks disgust you!” 

Harry winced, feeling quite guilty about upsetting him. “They don’t, it’s the fact that you tried to kill me so many times in that form that disturbs me!” 

“Aha, lies! I tried to kill you in human form, too, with the diary!” Voldemort shouted, and dropped the wand like a mic. 

“Semantics,” Harry said, cringing. He batted his eyelashes at him. “C’mon, what are you waiting for?” 

Voldemort cast the spell again and looked at the large wall clock across the room. It was far too blurry for him to read from where he was. “Time the spell,” he told him, pointing off into the room. 

“Got it,” Harry said, putting his glasses back on to read the hands. “Come on already!” He threw his hands around the man’s neck and Voldemort dropped on top of him, kissing him long and hard. They easily got back in the mood. They ground against the other, with their intensity heating things up. And then Harry felt it, the man on top of him transforming back into his frighteningly white evil self. He flinched back and looked at the clock, avoiding the Dark Lord’s hurt expression. “Four minutes,” he told him, forcing himself to look up at him with he was still clutched in his arms. He made a little noise in his throat, it wasn’t as scary this time when he looked at him. 

The man reapplied the spell and returned to kissing and humping Harry through the mattress, who needed no time to recover this round. “I want you,” Harry whispered against his lips. “Take me, Voldemort.” 

He hesitated, unsure of whether he should keep recasting the spell every other minute. He kept his wand tucked under his arm for safe keeping, hoping he would remember to recast it before the spell wore off. He didn’t want to turn Harry off. He was just so enamoured with him anymore, the man was incredibly intriguing, not to mention gorgeously hot. He found himself thinking about him all of the time. He could not not think about him. He wanted to make him happy and he was happy when he looked like Tom Riddle. He recast the spell and squeezed some lubricant into the palm of his hand. 

Harry closed his eyes and gasped at the lovely sensation of Voldemort’s fingers slipping in and out of him, stretching him enough to fit his cock nicely inside. “Ah gods, that’s good,” he mumbled, lost in the amazing feeling. His eyes opened to gaze at his beautiful face and immediately closed. Voldemort was Voldemort again. “Oh my god.” 

“Yeah, that good? You like it, honey?” the man asked him, lost in the euphoria of finger-fucking his pretty little captive. 

“Mhm, yeah…” Harry hummed, hating to offend the man but very much needing him to transform again. “Maybe you should reapply the spell.” 

“Oh hell, I’m sorry,” Voldemort cried, seeing his own white hands. “I can’t believe this. It’s like it’s wearing off faster each time I use it.” He reapplied the spell and relaxed back into the sex. He thrust himself inside and made a strange gurgling noise deep in his throat, unable to handle just how amazing it felt to fuck Harry. “Sorry again, gonna start fucking you now before I die.” 

“It’s alright, I’m good,” Harry said. He was good. 

Voldemort took Harry’s cock in his hand and worked over it, in attempt at giving the young man as much pleasure as he was receiving. “Are you feeling good despite the constant metamorphosis?” 

“Oh god, yes,” Harry moaned. “So good, always so bloody good.” 

“Fine then,” Voldemort said, decidedly not reapplying the spell. He moved deep, bringing himself and Harry close to orgasm. “Are you going to come for me?” he asked him, again lost in the pleasure. 

“Yes. Fuck yes,” Harry replied, uncaring what the fuck the man looked like anymore. He just wanted to come, to feel the amazing sensation of orgasming despite who was making it happen. 

“Oh god, I love you,” the man cried - and froze. He did not mean to say that out loud. “Oops.” 

“You love me?” Harry asked him while looking into his eyes, his snake-like red eyes. He smirked adorably. “That’s interesting.” 

“Was that too forward?” he asked him. “Do you maybe love me back, even a little?” 

“I might,” Harry said back, shrugging. “I know I love you fucking me.” 

“I’ll take it,” Voldemort said, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. He knew deep down inside that he was way more than simply fancying Harry now. He was smitten. He was in for the long haul. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, seeing he’d morphed again. He lifted his wand but Harry pushed it back down. 

“No time for that.” He wasn’t bothered anymore about whether he looked like Tom Riddle or Voldemort, the pleasure was far too great to care. “I’m gonna come soon, I’m really close, love. Make me come really hard,” he told him. 

“Of course,” the man said, dying inside of Harry. “You look so beautiful right now. Do I make you feel good, baby?” 

“Oh gods, fuck yes,” Harry shouted, coming so prettily in Voldemort’s hand. “Oh fuck, oh god,” he cried, lost in how wonderful the pleasure overtook him. He went boneless beneath him, his hands flopping around by his head while Voldemort quickened his pace as euphoria soared through his veins. 

“I’m coming,” he mumbled. Harry reached up, stroking his cheek as he breathed hard through his slits for nostrils. His eyes flew open at the touch. 

“Clean me up,” Harry said, pointing to his stomach. “I want to try something.” 

Voldemort laid down on his side beside him and whipped his wand over them to clean them up. “What do you want to try?” he asked him. 

Harry leaned in, cupping his face. “This,” he said, and then he kissed him. At first, the exchange from his human form’s full lips to the thin slash he was currently kissing felt strange, but as their mouths opened and tongues caressed he forgot he was kissing the wraith and melted into his embrace.

* * *

Harry leaned back on his settee and held the remote control up to turn on the television. Lord Voldemort stepped into the room and threw his hands out to his sides. “Ta-da!” 

The young captive jumped up, gaping at him as he crossed the room and threw himself into his arms. “You did it!” he cried before kissing the man’s gorgeous face all over. He leaned back to look into his lovely dark eyes. “But you didn’t have to. You know I’ve grown used to it.” 

“I did it for you, Harry. It was very honourable of you to accept me as I was but I want you to be happy and most of all to be turned on by me, not repulsed.” 

Harry dropped his head against his chest. "Thank you, Voldemort, I appreciate that. I really do.” He felt something hard against his cheek in the man’s suit jacket. “Oh, did you get it?” he asked him excitedly. 

Voldemort reached inside the jacket, nodding his head. “You ready to play?” he asked Harry, dangling the game cartridge over his head. He began reading the box cover. “It says here up to four people can play so I invited your friends to join us.” 

“Oh, thank you! You’re so good to me, love,” he said through a huge smile, snagging the game from him to open it. “When will they get here? I want to play!” 

The man plopped down on the sofa beside Harry and grabbed a controller. “Who are you playing?” 

“Yoshi,” Harry replied. 

“Actually, Granger called dibs on Yoshi,” he told him, shrugging. 

“Fine then, Toad.” 

“Oh, uh…Weasley asked to play Toad when Granger chose Yoshi, sorry.” 

“Who are you playing?” Harry asked, slightly perturbed. 

“Bowser, of course,” he said, and added some dramatic evil laughter to add to the effect. 

Harry laughed and nuzzled into his side. “What - no koopa troopa? This is bullshit…Fuck it, I’ll play Mario.” 

“Finally,” Voldemort said, putting his arm around Harry. He looked around the room at all the lavish gifts he had given to his lover over the course of two years. “You know I’m in here now more often than not, I should just live in here…if you want me to.” 

He put his head on his shoulder. “Yeah, that’d be great.” He revved up the engines of his go-cart, snickering. “Now prepare to get your arse kicked.” 

Lord Voldemort kissed the top of Harry’s head. “We’ll see about that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this wasn't clever or as humorous than the others but I'm cranky because I'm eating only rabbit food because my ass is getting fat from writing so much. Anyway, is anyone watching "Fear of the Walking Dead"? Omg that guy who played Tom Riddle is so hot and quirky, I love quirky men. Christian Coulson is still my favorite but damn...he's a seriously close second now. Sorry Ralph!
> 
> I was going to add some GIFS but they don't work :(


End file.
